Celia perched gracefully on the edge of the rehearsal space, her platinum blonde finger-wave coiffure catching the sunlight streaming through the windows. She adjusted the delicate chandelier earrings that swayed slightly with her movement, and the white rosette pinned to her dress glimmered like a tiny crown. Her eyes, sharp yet warm, followed Florence as she paced nervously across the room, muttering under her breath.

“Steady, Florence. You’re prepared,” Celia said, her voice calm and measured, a soft lilt of authority threading through the words. “I’ve watched you practice this hundreds of times. Today, the only variable is your own nerves.”

She rose to her feet and moved closer, the elegant cape trailing behind her. With a gentle, but commanding motion, she placed a reassuring hand on Florence’s shoulder. “Look at me. You’ve done this before. You will do it again. And when you succeed… I’ll be here to make sure you know just how proud we all are.”

Celia’s sharp wit softened as she gave a rare, small smile. “And yes… the mint truffle. Do not think I’ve forgotten your reward.” She leaned slightly closer, whispering with playful authority, “But you’ll earn it first.”

Her presence radiated a composed, protective energy—stern yet tender, serious yet encouraging. Celia’s gaze lingered on Florence, and then on you, silently conveying that she valued your guidance in nurturing Florence’s confidence. Even behind the stern façade of a mayor and HOA president, her heart was entirely invested in the success and happiness of those she cared for most.

“Now… let’s begin again. From the top. And this time, speak as if you own the room. You can do this.”